


let me

by gravitycentered



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Morning Sex, Temperature Play, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitycentered/pseuds/gravitycentered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis spends his afternoon discovering new ways to spice up the old act of "wake up blowjobs."</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be a nice pg-13 day in the domestic lives of louis, zayn and perrie, so naturally it turned into a blowjob and a little temperature play. all mistakes are my own (and please point them out if you find them!!!)

They don’t always sleep together in Louis’ bedroom, on his massive king size mattress, but when they do, nearly half the day slips away by the time they wake up. It’s quarter past two in the afternoon when Louis wakes with his toes dangling off the edge of the bed, breathing damply against Zayn’s ribcage. He and Perrie are still sleeping, if the quiet of the room is any indication, and Louis would usually be completely up for knocking back out until quarter past three instead, but his bladder and stomach alert him at once that he needs a toilet and a tea more than he needs another hour of sleep. 

Perrie walks in on him taking a piss and groans from the doorway, eyes still half shut, “Hurry _up_.” She hardly has them open at all after he mumbles an _alright_ and steps to the sink, and Louis watches, amused, as she sits down like she’s sleepwalking. 

“Zayn?” Louis asks, halfheartedly scrubbing his hands clean. 

Perrie snores loudly, head tipped forward, an impression of herself or Zayn, Louis’ not sure. “Time ‘s it?” 

“Like half two?” 

“Oh _god_ ,” she sighs, rubbing the back of her wrist against her eyes. A few dry flakes of black mascara come off her lashes as she does, and Perrie blinks away the excess as she stands. “We oughta get breakfast and lunch together at the same time. I could eat a house.” 

“Maybe I’ll make eggs,” Louis agrees. “Scrambled eggs. The simplest of breakfast foods. Besides toast.” He tugs Perrie toward him once she’s flushed the toilet and drags his wet thumb under her lashes; she yelps quietly out of surprise but laughs when she realizes what he’s doing, going still. 

“Eggs’ll be nice,” she says. Her eyes look swollen still from sleep, and she’s watching him fondly. Louis rubs away as much smudged makeup as he can with the pads of his thumbs and kisses her between the eyes, ducking down a second later to catch a peck on the lips as well. She smiles into it like she does every time and blinks herself awake when Louis smooths her messy hair down with his wet palms. 

“Back to bed first,” he decides. “We’ve got one more sleeping beauty to awaken.” 

Perrie shoves him gently out of the way to wash her own hands and flicks a bit of water in his direction. “Don’t be mean,” she says; Louis flippantly waves a hand in response, not sure if she’s even watching, and goes back to the bedroom. 

Zayn is curled up in the very center of the bed, the blankets covering him only from the thigh down. He looks sweet enough that Louis doesn’t even want to be mean, for once, would rather climb up and hug him than stick his damp, cold hands down Zayn’s joggers like he’d considered briefly. He crawls up into the spot he’d been sleeping, settling higher, so that he can watch the way Zayn’s face flickers when he wakes. 

“Good morning,” Louis whispers. His voice does nothing to stir Zayn, but when he slides an arm around his waist to rest on his bare back, Zayn frowns in his sleep and squirms forward, as if getting closer to Louis will get him farther from the cold hand on his skin. “Zayn,” Louis tries, slightly more insistent, nudging his nose up against Zayn’s. 

“What,” he says, monotonously, like he’s not very interested in the answer. Louis kisses his soft, slack lips until he sighs into it and puckers his mouth just enough to resemble reciprocation. 

“‘M making eggs,” Louis says, quite enticingly. 

“Y’not,” Zayn replies. He goes quiet after that, eyes still closed, lips parted invitingly; Louis kisses him again and Zayn whines under his breath, annoyed. 

“I am,” he insists. Zayn shakes his head the best he can with only partial consciousness and neck mobility. 

“Where’s y’spatula?” Zayn asks. He jabs Louis gently in the stomach when he tries to kiss him again, but relents and kisses back after Louis jerks the middle part of himself away, pushing the top part closer. It’s a longer kiss this time, a proper one; Zayn’s bottom lip gets caught between both of Louis’, who takes it softly between his teeth and strokes the tip of his tongue over the chapped skin before Zayn pulls it back. 

“Can’t very well make eggs in here, can I?” Zayn’s more awake now, Louis can tell, despite his closed eyes. He’s gathered enough energy to wrap an arm around Louis’ middle and tug him in close again, nuzzling around his face so the stubble on his chin drags against Louis’ lips. 

“H’ve you even got any eggs?” 

“Of course I’ve got eggs,” Louis mumbles, trying for indignant but losing the tone of it halfway through when Zayn manages to get both of his legs around one of Louis’, shifting forward until his cock is pressed against Louis’ thigh. “You’re not even paying attention to this conversation, are you?” 

“Mm, nope,” Zayn admits. He still hasn’t opened his eyes. There’s nothing insistent about him, no sign he’d prefer to get off before he gets out of bed this afternoon, but Louis still takes the bait. With his leg, he can only tell that Zayn’s a bit hard; when he slips his hand between them to squeeze at the front of Zayn’s joggers, he finds out he’s hardly halfway there, just lazily aroused. 

“Now ‘m paying attention,” he teases. Louis huffs a soft laugh and kisses his jaw, letting Zayn twitch forward into his palm. “Where’s Pez?” 

“I... don’t know,” Louis answers honestly. He squeezes the head of Zayn’s dick gently between his thumb and forefinger, through all his clothes, feeling his own cock stir a bit at Zayn’s answering groan. “She barged in on me in the loo, demanded to use the facilities, it was all very rude.” 

Zayn only hums in response; he finally peeks at Louis through one half-open eye, smiling a little when Louis looks back. “He lives,” Louis teases. 

“Take your shirt off,” Zayn replies. He helpfully pushes the hem of it up as far as he can one-handed, dick still getting harder under Louis’ fingers. 

“ _More_ demands,” Louis sighs, “‘M not sure why I let you ruffians into my home.” 

Zayn rolls onto his back when Louis lifts himself up to obey, stripping off his tshirt. He’s still sleepy, Louis knows, blinking slow and deliberately up at him. Instead of rubbing through the joggers again, Louis slides a hand all the way into Zayn’s pants and works all the waistbands down far enough to pull his dick out, shivering when Zayn thumbs at one of his nipples. 

“Could use my mouth,” he offers. Zayn shifts his hips at the same time his cock jumps, and Louis grins. “Since ‘m apparently not making eggs, might as well get something in there.” 

“Speaking of eggs, you haven’t got any,” Perrie says from the foot of the bed, around a mouthful of cereal, the bowl resting in the crook of her elbow while a mug of tea occupies her hand. 

“Ha,” Zayn breathes, triumphantly, and Louis squeezes his dick tight enough to make him gasp. 

“And you were supposed to get him up! I got tired of waiting and made a bowl.” She sets her tea down on the dresser and curls up next to Zayn’s head with her cereal, petting his hair when he turns his head to kiss her knee. 

“I would say I’ve succeeded in getting him up,” Louis argues. He gives Perrie a significant look and gives Zayn’s dick a few demonstrative tugs for good measure. 

Perrie groans out a laugh and balances her bowl in the cradle of her crossed legs, keeping an affectionate hand in Zayn’s hair. “G’on then, give us a show,” she says, scooping another mouthful of cereal up to her mouth. 

“I do think I’ve just been promised a blowjob,” Zayn agrees, pointedly rocking his hips up. 

“This isn’t much of a spectator sport, love,” Louis says to Perrie. “You really should be giving me a hand, I think.” 

“My hand’s involved,” she says, curling his fingers around Zayn’s hair more tightly than before. His cheeky smile fades a bit, mouth opening instead as he exhales heavily. 

“Alright, fair point,” Louis agrees. He bends at the waist and holds Zayn’s dick straight up, wetting his lips before kissing firmly over the head. Zayn breathes out harshly through his nose and blindly reaches down to squeeze the back of Louis’ neck. Louis’ more eager than he realized; embarrassingly, his mouth waters when he lets his tongue slip out to rub along the slit of Zayn’s cock. Instead of making them both wait, he sucks Zayn in right away, keeping gentle pressure and sighing when Zayn’s fingers tangle in his hair, just like Perrie’s had done to him. The sounds of her spoon clinking quietly and Zayn’s quicker breathing are comforting and comical at the same time to him: Perrie’s eating her breakfast while Zayn’s getting his cock sucked and nothing’s really out of the ordinary. 

Zayn keeps a gentle hand settled on the back of Louis’ head, resting there as he works his way up to taking more of him in, sucking with purpose the more tense Zayn’s muscles get. It doesn’t take long for the clank of Perrie’s spoon to stop, and when Louis looks up at her through his lashes he can understand why. She may not be done with breakfast, but Zayn’s watching her face and she’s watching him right back, stroking her fingers through his hair and brushing her thumb over the arch of his brow. Perrie looks plenty aroused herself, her free hand twisted into the loose blankets by her side, thighs tense, the skin red from the cold of the cereal bowl. Which, actually, gives him an idea. 

“Pezza,” he says, lips still pressed against Zayn; he’s wet from Louis’ mouth now, wet enough that he just groans when Louis strokes him, not bothering to look down and see why he’s stopped. 

Perrie breaks her gaze with Zayn, though, “Yes, pet?” 

Sitting up, Louis asks, “How cold is that milk d’you reckon?” 

“Um,” she says, hand stilling on Zayn. She looks to her lap. “Quite cold?” 

“Excellent,” Louis replies, holding out the hand not working Zayn’s cock. “May I?” 

“Um,” Perrie says again; she looks amused now, glancing down at Zayn, who’s finally lifted his head to see what’s going on. “I suppose?” 

“Louis,” Zayn warns; Perrie hands over the bowl and Louis tips some sweet, sugary milk into his mouth over the rim, letting it stay there while he gives the rest back to Perrie. He grins at Zayn, who’s looking slightly worried, and swallows just before leaning back down to take Zayn’s dick back into his mouth, pressing his now cold tongue flat against the head while he sucks firmly. Zayn gasps and his hips jerk up, pushing himself deeper in Louis’ mouth; Louis lets it happen, sucking hard when he pulls back, the inside of his mouth already warm again from a few seconds of being against Zayn’s hot skin. 

“What,” Zayn starts, rolling his hips up into Louis’ waiting mouth a handful of times before he can finish his sentence, “the _fuck_ , Lou?” 

“‘M just a bit parched, to be honest,” Louis says, a bit breathless. He swallows against the taste of Zayn on his tongue and looks up to Perrie again, who’s still watching him. “Could I have a sip of your tea, babe?” 

Intrigued, Perrie grabs her mug and replaces it with the cereal bowl, handing it over to Louis; he uses both hands this time, careful not to spill any. Zayn watches his lips and fists himself slowly while Louis takes a tiny sip, testing the heat before drinking in a bigger gulp. Like before, he keeps the tea in his mouth while handing the mug back to Perrie, waiting until the last second to swallow. 

Even his hand is noticeably warmer after holding the mug, he can tell. This time, when he knocks Zayn’s hand gently away and sucks him back in, Zayn groans louder than he usually lets himself and arches into it, cock jerking in Louis’ mouth. He pushes lightly on the back of Louis’ head, urging him down further, and encourages him over the brief jolt of adrenaline he gets when the head of Zayn’s dick nudges the back of his throat. Louis wants to pull off and catch his breath, maybe gloat a bit over how well Zayn seemed to enjoy that, but he makes himself bob up and down a few more times, squeezing firmly at his own dick when he hears Zayn’s shaky breath above him. 

“You _liked_ that one,” Perrie says, still curious, and Zayn breathes out his agreement, a quiet _yeah_. 

“S’the, uh, so fucking hot, like, _actually_ hot, feels good,” Zayn mumbles, easing up the pressure on Louis’ head to pet his hair instead. “S’good, Lou.” 

“Still parched, then, Louis?” Perrie teases. 

“Are _you_?” Louis asks. He has to clear his throat before he can say more, jaw beginning to ache just subtly. “Could give it a go yourself, s’your tea after all.” 

Zayn groans and throws an arm over his eyes, face buried in the crook of his elbow. Perrie grins. “Might be a bit thirsty.” 

“No, God,” Zayn huffs. “Don’t do the... double thing.”

“The double thing? What’s the double thing?” Louis asks. 

“No idea,” Perrie shrugs. She brings the mug up to her mouth and takes a long drink, swallowing plenty before leaving a mouthful like Louis’s been doing. Louis winks at her as she sets the mug back on the dresser.

“Surely we won’t be doing the double thing if we have no idea what it is,” Louis says. Zayn’s still got his face covered, not watching them, but he’s tenser now; Louis watches his cock, where a slick bead of precome slides down past the head until it’s too small to keep going. 

Belatedly, Perrie agrees, “absolutely not,” before she shifts up onto her knees, bending to sink her mouth down over Zayn’s dick without more warning. He groans again like Louis knew he would, but instead of giving him time to adjust Louis leans back in again as well, sucking wet kisses over Zayn’s balls with Perrie’s mouth still on him. This time Zayn gasps and twists his body to the side a little, expecting the sensation but not prepared for it yet either way, but they both follow him. When Perrie pulls up, Louis tilts his head and follows that too, sliding his open mouth up the warm side of Zayn’s dick, lips meeting Perrie’s when she comes back down. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zayn breathes, both hands coming down to touch their heads, fingers tangling messily in their hair. 

Pulling back enough to nudge Perrie’s temple with his nose, Louis mumbles, “Lick ‘im with me, y’know he likes that.” 

“Jesus, yeah,” Zayn replies, hips twitching up. Perrie hums around him, low and like a purr, pulling off to lock eyes with Louis as she licks up the side of Zayn’s cock, the tip of her tongue curling around him. Momentarily distracted, Louis’ own dick throbs as he watches her mouth; he only remembers what he’s meant to be doing when Perrie starts all over again, ducking down to kiss Zayn’s hip affectionately before licking up the same path her tongue took the first time. Louis mirrors her now, purposely making his way up quicker so that he can lick over Zayn’s slit and suck him into his mouth first, wanting the taste of him. It’s strong now, overpowering the taste of milk and tea still stuck on Louis’ tongue.

“Greedy,” Perrie whispers in his ear, playfully, but Louis’ not in a mind to argue, letting Zayn push up further into his mouth now that Perrie’s is gone. “Finish your job, then,” she says.

Louis feels her slender fingers pushing through his hair as well, sliding over and between the tight grip Zayn’s got on him before she’s shifting away, back up to where she was before. He gets properly greedy after that, glancing up at the both of them to watch Perrie finally kiss Zayn’s mouth - he works on keeping the suction hard, tight like he’d go if Zayn were fucking him, just to see if he can get Zayn’s hips to stutter or his mouth to forget what it’s doing during a kiss. 

It’s how he can tell Zayn’s close. He’s useless when he’s about to come, fingers frozen in their hold on hair or clothes or sheets, mouth open and panting, legs spread and tense. Louis can see Perrie’s doing the work, kissing Zayn’s wet lower lip and licking into his open mouth, letting him breathe against her. She murmurs something to him, a soft encouragement that makes Zayn push his head back against the pillows and up into Louis’ mouth, red down to his neck by now. 

It makes Louis want to encourage him too, tell him to come in his mouth, wanting to hear the hurried, aroused breaths Zayn takes after he says it. More than that, though, he wants it to actually _happen_ , inclined to keep his mouth working over Zayn than to waste time talking. His jaw aches properly now and he’s sure to have a headache with how tightly Zayn’s got his hair fisted, but the pain makes him focus, the relief just another part of the pride he’ll feel once Zayn’s finished. 

“He wants it, babe, c’mon,” Perrie says. Louis knows she’s talking to Zayn, talking about him, and it makes his own cheeks flush; he digs his nails into Zayn’s hip and sinks down deeper on his cock, going as far as he knows he can take, fighting his body’s reflex to push Zayn out of his throat. 

Zayn curses, holding Louis still while he works his hips, shallowly thrusting in as deep as he’ll let himself. He doesn’t offer a warning, but Louis doesn’t need one. He swallows right away as Zayn starts to come, pushing against the pressure from his hand so he can move back to catch it on his tongue instead of taking it down his throat, more used to the feeling that way. Zayn groans when he’s coming down from it, rolling his hips to ride out the orgasm until he shudders at a particularly firm stroke of Louis’ tongue, too sensitive to keep going. 

“Well, good morning everyone,” Perrie says cheerily. 

“And you’re welcome,” Louis pointedly adds to Zayn, crawling up to be level with the both of them. Mostly. He ends up curled on his side, head pillowed on Zayn’s bony arm, uncaring of the light sheen of sweat he’s built up. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Zayn promises. His eyes are closed, but his fingers find their way back to Louis’ head to rub his scalp now. 

“You and I might as well take care of ourselves, Louis,” Perrie sighs, “we’ll get no help from this one I bet ya.” 

Louis hums. “By ‘take care of ourselves’ do you _actually_ mean ‘take care of each other,’ because I’m in if that’s the case.” 

“No,” Zayn protests, weakly batting out in Perrie’s direction. “No, neither. Need a nap first.” 

“ _You_ can nap,” Perrie says. 

Louis reaches out over Zayn’s chest to brush his fingers over Perrie’s bare thigh, looking between Zayn’s furrowed brow and her flushed cheeks. 

“Go right ahead,” he agrees. “You won’t miss much.”


End file.
